Hasta Entonces
by phantasiagirl
Summary: I won't be able to help you anymore," she murmured. He nodded. "I know." But she would protect them, the men, the women, the children, any and all who came to her for refuge. 1939, Spanish Civil War.


**March 28 1939**

The sky was growing darker. Thunder sounded in the distance, a low rumble rippling through the black clouds that stretched to the horizon. The air was heavy and damp; it would begin to rain soon, no doubt. The atmosphere in the small field was peaceful, not even the loudest of screams or the most powerful of bombshells or gunshots from far away and down below could shatter the fragile tranquility on the small hill. Only the thunder, which was slowly beginning to be accompanied by the sharp, quick flashes of its partner, lightning. The storm was coming closer.

A single figure stood alone in the middle of the field. Her long dark brown curls flowed freely in the breeze, for once not trapped in her customary braid. Her richly tanned hands were clasped tightly in front of her, over the colorful embroidery that adorned the white puebla dress she wore and preventing it from fluttering too strongly as the wind picked up. Dark brown eyes gazed blankly on a spot on the horizon, lost in thought. Several long moments passed before something, someone, appeared at the top of the hill where she stood.

His short wavy hair was mussed and his entire appearance was exhausted and disheveled. His loose white cotton shirt was only half-buttoned and stained with blood and his face was covered in a layer of sweat and grime. His dark eyes, almost identical to hers, were tired as he gazed upon her, coming closer step by weary step. When he finally stood only a few feet away from the young woman, he opened his chapped lips to speak.

"_Lo siento, Leticia."_

His voice was barely above a whisper, almost inaudible as another rumble echoed over the hill. Her eyes softened as she took in his appearance and she stepped forward slightly.

"_No tienes la culpa," _she responded, touching his arm lightly. _"Hiciste tu mejor." _After a moment, her eyes shifted over the crimson stains that decorated his clothing and her delicate eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm fine," he said soothingly, catching her worried glances.

"But…" she began softly, but he shook his head.

"Things are finally beginning to quiet down now. I'll be…fine." A soft smile touched upon the young man's lips but it did nothing to quell her anxiety.

She hesitated for a moment before taking his larger hands in her own. "Things…will be different now, you know," she murmured.

The older nation nodded softly. "I know."

"I won't be able to help you anymore."

Again, he nodded. _"Yo se."_

She paused, squeezing his hands lightly. _"_Antonio…_"_

"You've already done what you could, Leti," he cut in, bringing her hands up to gently kiss them. "I understand what your boss is thinking and I know what that means. This…will probably be the last time we see each other for a long while." There was another pause, this one longer as the first light drops of rain began to fall. They picked up in speed and intensity and the moisture was soaked up in the fabric of their clothing until it could hold no more. Both nations were soaked to the bone before Antonio spoke again. _"Pero Leti…¿los protegerás?"_

Immediately, she nodded. "Of course. I will protect them all those who come, whether they be _nacionales_ or _republicanos_. The artists, scientists, the thinkers…even the simple families just looking for a safe haven. I will take care of them too," she whispered. "My home will be theirs."

Despite the bloodshed that loomed just a few miles away, despite the complete and utter chaos and brutality what was ravaging his home, Spain had to smile. It wasn't the bright, vibrant smile of days long past, but it still had the memory lingering somewhere in it. _"Gracias por todo el mundo, mi hermanita."_

Her lips twitched into a tiny smile of her own but she reached up to lightly flick him in the forehead. "I'm not that little anymore, Antonio," she chided, causing him to chuckle.

"That's true," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. He looked as if he wanted to say something more but he suddenly froze, his eyes becoming distant. "I have to go."

Leticia tensed. "A-Antonio, I…I'll talk to my boss. I'll tell him that we can still help, I—"

But he shook his head. "No, what's done is done."

"I haven't done enough though, nothing compared to what Ivan's done for you…"

Antonio's smile was sad now as he stroked her cheek. "You're still recuperating yourself, you can't afford this now."

She opened her mouth to protest but closed it again, knowing he was right. She, Leticia, may have wanted to do what she could to help her brother, but she, the nation of Mexico, wouldn't stand for it. She could help him, yes, by sheltering the refugees what were fleeing from his home, but Ivan and even Francis too, were assisting with that. The war was over. There was nothing more she could do. As a person, as a younger sister, Leti wanted to stay. But as a nation, Mexico had to leave. "I'll still…try what I can," she finally said after a deep breath.

After a pause, he nodded and reached out to engulf her in a tight hug. She embraced him back in a split second and the two nations lingered there until Spain finally pulled away. _"Cuídate, Leticia."_

"_Y tú tambi­én," _she replied as a clap of thunder roared overhead and the downpour worsened. Antonio just smiled at her and took a step back to leave. Neither of them said anything more as Spain turned his back to her and began to wearily trudge back to the capital where his new boss and the people were waiting.

"_Ha…Hasta entonces, Antonio," _Leti couldn't help but call before he was too far, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

He stopped and turned slightly to glance back at her, his eyes sad. _"Hasta entonces, hermanita."_

They were both glad it was raining.

_March 28 1939: __With the virtual disintegration of the Republican army, the Nationalists take Madrid._

* * *

_Lo siento-_ I'm sorry  
_Pero-_ But  
_No tienes la culpa_- It's not your fault  
_Hiciste tu mejor- _You did your best  
_¿los protegerás?- _Will you protect them?  
_Hermanita- _little sister  
_Gracias por todo el mundo_- Thank you, for all the world. Meant to show the depth or gratitude  
_Cuídate_- Take care  
_Y tú tambi­én_- And you too  
_Hasta entonces- _Until then

Notes:

-During the Spanish Civil War, most countries, including England (UK at the time, iirc), France, and the United States, didn't want to be involved and created the Non-Intervention Committee, though it was largely ineffective.

-While the US didn't want to be involved in the war and basically told Mexico to do the same, Mexico openly supported the Republican forces and refused to follow the NIC's policies, unlike other major Latin American governments such as Argentina, Peru, Brazil, and Chile (who were sympathetic to the nationalists).

-However, Mexico was only able to provide a modest amount of weapons and volunteer soldiers for free and had just finished with their own war, the Mexican Revolution. (1910-1921). The Soviet Union was able to provide the bulk of the Republican forces' weapons, but at a steep monetary price.

-After the war, Mexico granted asylum to all those who fled Spain, including many scientists, artists, and writers. Some, however, fled to other parts of Europe such as France and the Soviet Union. Pablo Picasso fled to France, for example.

-However, Mexico cut off all diplomatic ties with Spain immediately following the beginning of Francisco Franco's rule and they weren't reestablished until 1977. (38 years…)

OTL I hope I got my information right. And the way I'm portraying Spain here is that he's not on any particular side really, since they're all part of Spain. He's leaning heavily towards the _republicanos_, yes, but he feels the pain of all the people who are suffering regardless of what side they're on. Both sides did some pretty horrible stuff in the war. Poor Antonio. ;_;

This is my first crack at a Hetalia fanfiction...and the first time I've actually posted something in a long while. Haha, and here I swore that I didn't want to read or write a single thing about Spain after that damn Senior Project. I had to analyze the hell out of "Spain 1937" by W.H. Auden. And look at me now. I'm writing about the Spanish Civil war.

Goddammit Hetalia.

…

I love you.


End file.
